When You Reach Me
by Cereal-Killa
Summary: If someone threw me to the floor, held a gun to my head, told me to tell them when it began, the first thing that would flood to my mind was the only reasonable answer: the day Harold got punched. DunCourt. Based off When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead. (HIATUS)
1. Chapter One: The Day Harold Saw Stars

Prologue:

I would like to say that when we first met, it was an eye opener. My life was suddenly brand new, and everything suddenly made sense. A light had popped on in my head, and all I could see was her beautiful face, flooding my mind, and that it never went away, not for a second. My life was complete, now that she was in it.

But it wasn't like that.

We were second graders. She was just a girl. Not even one that I would take notice too, either. She didn't have cooties, no, only rabbits had those (or so I believed, thanks to Birdie), so she was normal. Boring. As you know, second graders have the attention span of a goldfish, so nothing really kept me entertained for more than a few seconds.

Her hair was pretty though. Short. So she couldn't get gum stuck in it, I supposed. Mom said that happened to herself when she was smaller.

I couldn't tell you how she acted for those first years at my new school, and leading on to middle school, all the way to eleventh grade. I couldn't tell you what her last name was. But on that day, that Monday, on the second day of my junior year, I could tell you what I knew from then on. You said write everything that happened and everything that led up to it.

I couldn't really tell you when it all started, because it's just time, moments just bouncing back and forth, and a moment having the ability to change anything and everything. But if someone threw me to the floor, held a gun to my head, and told me to tell them exactly when it began, the first thing that would flood to my mind was the only reasonable answer: the day Harold got punched.

---

_When You Reach Me_

_---_

_I'm coming to save her life, and my own._

_ When you reach me, I'll no longer be myself._

_ So I ask two favors._

_First:_

_ You must write a letter to me. Tell me everything that has happened and everything that has led up to it. Don't write until you are certain._

_ Second:_

_Don't try to find me._

_---_

Chapter One:

The Day Harold Saw Stars

Let me just start with this.

Harold is a nose picker. He just picked. And picked. And I'm pretty sure that explains everything about him. At least it did for me, those years I had known him.

Something about him just pissed me off. I had always had the urge to tease him, and I almost always acted upon it. Some laughed; some called me mean, or rude, or said 'You're so insecure'. If I was insecure, then the world was flat. And we know that people only said that because they knew nothing better or smarter to say.

So anyway, Harold pissed me off. It was obvious that he was threatened by me. So I picked on him. It was easy, and it wasn't as though I needed to build my self-esteem, I really just think that I was bored. I needed some source of entertainment in this bleak little town. So I just picked on him, and yet he _still _picked his nose.

I live in an old apartment that no one really pays much attention to. It's 1977, and people don't really care where you live at anymore. Somehow, this part of town was always densely populated, for all the wrong reasons. It's in the wrong area of town, you might say. I didn't realize this when I was smaller. I thought everyone lived here. I thought everyone loved it the way I did. I was so pure back then. Now I always feel dirty.

I'm about to give you the main course here. The whole reason I'm writing this, for better or for worse. For you, of course, because it was your simple request. It all starts with her.

Courtney has dark hair, caramel skin, and bright green eyes. She is always wearing this silver bracelet that I know should have charms on it, but it doesn't. She was clean cut, nice smile, had a nice body. That was all I knew about her at first.

Courtney's parents were the rich kind of people, at least as rich as you got in Chamber Falls. She was the best of the best in the tiny town, anyway, and she also cared for a lot.

Her mother had asked me if I would please drive her to school and back and such when we hit eleventh grade. She didn't really ask, rather demanded it, referring back to the loan of cash she had given my parents back when I was not born. As if to shout 'pay your parents dues'. So I came to pick her up that Monday.

I drove slowly, because they actually had a driveway. A driveway! I thought. I was amazed by it, and I felt shame. My mom and I always parked on the curve. My dad used to park in the parking lots that cost a quarter a day. That was when we sure of ourselves. We're kind of lost now.

Mom had me drive the Camaro instead of the old pick-up. "Let's look our best for the Meeks. We owe them for a lot."

But our best look like nothing compared to them not even trying.

Courtney was sitting at the door, waiting, tapping her foot, to a beat though. She was swaying, right to left, _swing, swing, swing_. I listened, but I heard no music.

I opened the car door. She didn't stop swaying, but she hesitated, like she was looking me over. I got that a lot.

See, I'm not the type of guy you want to approach, and for me that can be a good or bad thing. My size was bit weird, tall and well-built was what my mom said, lanky and giant from Birdie (my sister), and my Dad just scoffed and rolled his eyes. My mom would whisper that he was just jealous. My Dad was only 5'6. I was 5'10. It's an on-going 'reason to hate you' list.

Oh yeah. And I have a green Mohawk. Not exactly the biggest in style, I suppose, but that's not what it was for. Birdie had died it for me two years before at a party. She had been smoking a bit, so it was easier to win her over. I hated it when she smoked. Only when she handed the green over to me did I shut my trap. "Take a drag and just go away, Duncan. I'm not in it now." She was never in it.

She had said, "This Mohawk, I guess you could call it you, Duncan, but it's not you. It's your outer shell. I'm a bird, and you… well, right now, you're this."

One look at Courtney's face said it all: what the hell is _this?_

The hair, and me, I mean. What the hell was I, she probably thought. I'll never know. Her next three words were simple: "So you're Duncan?"

The name came out of her mouth as if it were tainted. "Do I not please you?"

She flipped her short hair, standing up. "Let's go." She walked by me, as if I didn't matter, as if I was nobody. To people like her, I probably was.

As soon as we got in the car, I turned to her. "Just because my parents owe your parents, don't think I'm going to accept this _attitude _you have." I slipped on my seat belt. "Things don't work that way."

She was quiet for a moment. I thought she might get upset, but what I didn't expect was exactly what happened. She stuck up the finger, and licked her lips. "Then don't accept it." She hissed. "But deal with it. I don't know what attitude you're referring to, but I'll tell you this: people like me break people like you." Her green eyes didn't even flicker.

I started the car, smiling. "People who _look _like me get broken. People harder than me break others. You would get a can of whoop ass if I was any harder, sweetheart."

"Right." She said. "I have fifteen lawyers."

"Well, I have a gun."

She looked at me, wide eyed. "Kidding," I said, smirking. She crinkled her eyebrows.

The start of a great friendship, am I right?

---

_When You Reach Me_

_---_

So anyways, I drove Courtney that first day. We were outside of school- thank god, I was pretty sure she might strangle me in the next two minutes. "OK, honey, time to go to school." I joked.

She was not as amused. She slammed the car door. I could see she was at the edge, so I pushed more. "Don't break a nail, Princess."

She turned to me, eyes burning with a fire. Just then, Harold came behind me. "Duncan, where's my inhaler? I know you took it. Gosh, I mean, why would you want that?"

Courtney looked to him. Suddenly, oh-so fast, she walked up to me.

She hit Harold right in the jaw.

Now imagine the girl in your class who is teacher's pet, a bit demanding, always gets the grade. Now imagine her in ratty clothes. Imagine her sick looking, her eyelids drooping, dark circles, frown lines, bad hair day all rolled into one. Imagine her not wearing that certain perfume that day. And imagine her fist making contact with that one losers face.

I hadn't noticed how distraught Courtney looked before. Had I just been focused on her face? She looked bad. Withered, I supposed.

And then the moment was over. Harold was on the ground, and Courtney was walking away. Kids stared in awe, but no one said anything. Harold was crying. I was standing there.

And Courtney was walking away.

It was the start of a memory still so vivid in my mind, yet so far away. Like a movie I could play again and again, any time I felt like it. Which is never.

---


	2. Chapter Two: Birdie and My Parents

_When You Reach Me_

Chapter Two:

Birdie and my Parents

---

Savanna "Birdie" Montgomery was born on October 4th, 1957 (Me three years later, but in December, and on the 1st). She was a smaller baby, and they thought she was going to die. But she didn't.

She was pronounced to have dyslexia when she was seven. It meant she saw the words all wrong and upside down and jacked up. She had a hard time reading.

Birdie dropped out of seventh grade when she was fourteen. She was held back in second. She hated me for never failing. Birdie smoked pot on a daily basis and had these friends who I still don't like, and I still don't know their names, even after six years of them always being here.

Birdie would sometimes leave for weeks, months at a time. She came and went as she pleased. She is twenty one now. She hates me and my parents. So she says.

Was it wrong, that I, Duncan, the bad boy, the crazy psycho- I was the good kid of the family. Makes no sense right? None of us were good, actually.

My Mom got pregnant with Birdie when she was 16. She had to drop out of high school. My Dad did not. My mom still sometimes looked at him this way, like he had everything she ever wanted.

Mom, of course, my lovely mom, was a born hippie. Rebellious, you might call it- and it made sense. She looked clean now, but trust me, look at the baby pictures- my mom always had us in tie-die shirts and has a glazed over look from no sleep and pot. I loved her for it. No matter how you looked at it, she still had that spark in her eye whenever she heard the word 'strike'.

She has an old lava lamp in her room. She sits there and stares at it sometimes, gesturing for me and Birdie to come over so she can read our palms. It's like she's 16 years old again, a beautiful girl against the world. She always says the same thing to me each time: "Sticks and stones were never your problem, my little rebel." I didn't understand it when I was six and I don't understand it now. I used to ask her what she meant, but then she would be back to reality, my normal mom again, and would tell me she said the stupidest things when she was upset.

But again, she would get the sparkle in her blue eyes, as if she saw in me that I couldn't.

Birdie will never tell me what mom says to her. She always looks at mom like she's hideous and walks away.

My Dad was already in college when mom had Birdie. He was 21- "Twenty One! Sixteen! Oh dear!" It might seem crazy now, but things like that were normal back then. Kids were running around with adults back then.

Ironically, my dad is a cop. He has never got paid as much as we need, which makes no sense- he's chief of police. You would think payroll got larger as you went up in rank, but as time goes on, income dwindles slowly but surely. Mom is always yelling about money- you can't keep taking it you know, I could hear her say. Sometimes I can hear her crying. My Dad is always quiet.

I don't think my Dad spends money on booze or that he gambles, so where all that cash ends up is a mystery to anyone. I know my mom would probably tell me if I asked, but I can't bring myself to do it. She has a heart bigger than me and dad and Birdie put together, but Dad tells me if easily broken and hard to be repaired, like door knob breaking on both sides, while your still locked in. "Now how in the hell would you manage to get out with that door done from both sides? How would you ever fix something that is ready to just be done?" So I always just look at my mother and remember that one day, later, _soon_, I'll ask her. Maybe.

Birdie says she knows where all the money goes. "Give me a two dollar bill and the secrets all yours," She would say, as she smiled wickedly at me. Birdie loves a good secret. Especially when it's hers and everyone else's except yours. Since I don't really know where to get a two dollar bill, and since I'm pretty sure she's lying her ass off and just wants two bucks, I don't think about it much.

My Dad's hard face and sharp features contrast to my mother's full cheeks and thin body. Mom says I look more like him than anybody. He gave me the sharp jaw, the jet black hair (not the green Mohawk Duncan. Your father hates that).

Dad would gladly disagree- he **hates **it if people compare us. His hard brown eyes are what's different. I have my mother's teal edging on baby blue color. He says it's what keep him from shooting me, because they remind him that my mom is somewhat responsible for me as well (oh god, dad, quit with all that mushy stuff).

"Who knows," he would say, "Maybe Rosemary tricked our asses."

But he wasn't talking about me then. He was talking about Birdie.

Birdie was my Dad's pride and joy at first, and somewhere along the line- I think when she dropped out- he gave up on her. I can remember him asking, "Savanna, what's wrong with you?"

Her eyes had been torn then, just three days after she quit going to school. She had sucked in a breathe, and I knew something had changed about her. Overnight, it seemed. "I'm a bird dad. Get used to it. One day I'm gonna fly away from this crappy town. And I'm gonna shit on your face, right before I leave."

Birdie was still here. No job. No money. Still staring up at the sky, smoking green, wondering how in the hell she ever believed she might fly.

_---_

_When You Reach Me_

_---_

Harold is being helped by some black girl, and I'm running after Courtney. "Wait a minute!" I yelled after her. She's just walking, and she turns to me. Her face is red. She looks at me saying, "Please don't tell the principle." Her face was worried. She suddenly seemed normal again; the girl who always raised her hand, always had her homework. Not like the girl from 30 seconds ago at all.

I smiled at her, raising an eyebrow. "Whatever." I said, blowing it off. "That was awesome." It was. A girl like Courtney. Punching Harold. I thought I'd never see the day.

She didn't look so happy about it. Actually, she looked sick. "Can you-"She got pushed by someone walking in the hall, and she look towards me, eyes pleading. "Can you take me home?"

I set my lips in a thin line. "Sweetheart, I'll take you wherever." I felt as though I owed her something. The way she looked so sick and everything made me feel a weird bubbly feeling, a knot in my stomach like I might hurl.

She grabbed on to my jacket. "Come on." She said. "We're going to my house."

"We?" I said.

"Do you want to spend your day here?" She let go of my jacket, waving her arms around, gesturing to the school hallway. "Be glad I'm being nice, pig. It's rare for me to take a sick day."

"You feel sick?"

"No."

"Well then-"

"No more questions. OK?" She walked ahead of me, a scowl on her face. I smirked, catching up with her, wishing she would clutch back onto my jacket again.

_---_

A/N: So just to make sure everything is clear, this is based a bit off of a book- not that much, but I got some idea and inspiration- by Rebecca Stead, also titled When You Reach Me. Please don't read the book before this. It may spoil the mystery for you. Just a request.

So thanks for the early reviews on the first chapter. It was sweet, feeling the power of reviews again. It's been a while, you know? Love you all- Cereal.


	3. Chapter Three: The First Note

Disclaimer: I don't own TDI or 'Stairway to Heaven' lyrics by Led Zeppelin, but I really like them both. Does that count for anything?

_When You Reach Me_

Chapter Three:

The First Note

You know how a breath of fresh air can totally change your attitude? Like how just feeling that rush can completely turn you from feeling like dill hole to feeling like you just got that girl, you just won the last three points in a game- or for me, you got away with something that seemed to be right on the edge of the worst kind of trouble?

Well, that's how my car was for me. It was the exact opposite for Courtney. Raging Led Zeppelin roared through the car, and this is gonna sound lame, but I am a head-banger to the music. I'm not sure if it's the music or the fact that it drowns everything else out. Birdie used to play ABBA sometimes just to piss me off, laughing as she would say "Duncan, aren't you digging the dancing queen?"

Courtney pushed her hands to her ears, looking out of the car, watching all the kids looking at my car. "Duncan! Turn that down." She smiled at everyone outside the car wearily. "People are staring."

I grunted, still head banging to the music with fierce beats as he started the car. Courtney sighed. "At least change the song."

I pursed my lips jokingly. "What's the magic word?"

"Scooby-doo has better taste in music than you?"

I smiled. "OK, OK, I get it." Right then 'Stairway to Heaven' rolled through, the light guitar notes playing through. "There you go."

Courtney huffed. This was not her first choice in music apparently, but I sang along as we passed the roads and trees, leaving the school behind us.

"_In a tree by the brook  
there's a songbird who sings  
Sometimes all of our thoughts are  
misgiven_…"

Somewhere in the car, along with the lyrics dancing on my tongue, I stopped, and heard her light voice singing along as well, in a whisper almost.

_When You Reach Me_

Lynyrd Skynyrd was playing 'Sweet Home Alabama' when we saw him. "He sure does give me the creeps."

I couldn't tell you exactly when he had first appeared, but the crazy old man on the corner was always there now. He slept under the mailbox, and kids called him 'kicker' because he ran around doing random kicks in the middle of the road all the time. He was always laughing hysterically, and I always found myself walking to the other side of the street no matter how much I told myself he was harmless, he was always walking around in those ratty clothes, kicking, and this is going to sound creepy- I always felt as though he was staring at me.

He had just shown up two months ago. He was a skinny homeless man who just _poofed _up on the corner one day. My Dad said he was a freak, but my mom said it was horrible to make fun of a man who was so unfortunate. "There's no telling what he's been through! All that energy, that weird aura surrounding him… it's not negative, but it's not good either." She said it with the strangeness only a past-time hippie can speak with.

Anyway, the dude was weird. Courtney thought so too. "How do you roll up the window?" She was staring at the man, who started to get up from his mailbox.

I pointed to the pulley that you turned to roll up the window with. "Right there." But she didn't move. She was frozen to her seat.

The old man was cackling now, his limp hair clinging to his face. "Bookbag, pocketshoe!" He yelled, smiling like a maniac as he came closer and closer to the car. "Bookbag! Pocketshoe!"

"What's a pocket shoe?" Courtney said, her voice a whisper, her whole body stiff with fear.

The light turned green. I speed on the gas. But I could still see him in rearview mirror, and Courtney's eyes followed him too.

"Smart kid!" He yelled, kicking in the middle of the street. "Two! Two! Two!"

_When You Reach Me_

We got back to Courtney's house, and she ran up the porch steps. "God, he creeps me out so much." She pushed her keys in, and we stomped inside.

As I told you, I lived in the bad area of town. Courtney does not. So as much as I already knew that of course her house was big and pretty and awesome, I never thought it would be like this.

A brand new record player sat in the corner, and the foyer separated into many expensive hallways leading to big rooms, which led to other big rooms, and other ones. It felt like the place could go on forever, a never ending palace.

Courtney broke me out of the trance by walking up the stairs, and I quickly followed. I tripped over something, fell, and saw it was a beautiful black shoe, polished and everything. I recognized them as the ones my father had said were the ones he wanted, but they had cost almost sixty dollars.

Courtney came down the stairs, flipping the shoe in the corner of the room. "I'm sorry. My Dad was in a rush this morning-" A dark looked consumed her face for a few seconds but then disappeared quickly as it had come. "He always leaves his house shoes lying around.

_House shoes?! _The shoes my father had dreamed of, her father's ratty house shoes. My face flushed bright with embarrassment- which was crazy. Why was I blushing? I think because I just fell due to a show, a show which my father would never be able to afford.

Courtney invited me to dinner, but I declined- my shoes weren't even good enough for this house, and I felt strange enough already- which made her face go red. "OK." She said. "Well, my mom will be home in few minutes, and if you're here, she'll know this is not really a sick day."

I nodded, not really saying anything as I backed up out of the house, Courtney's eyes behind me the whole time, as though she wanted me to turn around and see something. I felt a wave of relief as I listen to the door slowly close.

I drove for a minute and then went over to a curb and threw up.

_When You Reach Me_

I sat on my bed at home, with Birdies loud music playing, dad's whistling, mom's humming all draining in and out of my ears.

That girl had really messed me up.

I had felt something I hadn't felt since third grade with some chick named Susie, and trust me, this time it was worse. I felt like I had to prove something to her. And I knew what that was. I was the worst fear that Birdie had always taught me to look out for. Untouchable lust. The desire for something you could never have.

Courtney had money. Courtney had spunk. She also had something that left me leaving that house knowing I couldn't go back. Like leads to really like, which then leads to denial, which then leads to ultimately- _love. _The word felt sour on my tongue, like Brussels sprouts.

Like mom and dad. One resenting the other, the other, well, he was too distant to know any better. Why would you ever want that?

So I'm sitting there, I reach in my backpack and take out my favorite book, with a worn out cover and everything. I open it up and start reading it. I got it in like second grade, but even when Birdie tries to get me to read some of her books, I just know this one will always be my favorite. I read for like two minutes (I would die if anyone found I out I actually read), when something falls out of the book.

I thought it was a page, but it was actually a tiny, very old, piece of paper. I read it and raised a brow:

_I'm coming to save her life, and my own._

_When you reach me, I'll no longer be myself._

_So I ask two favors._

_First:_

_You must write a letter to me. Tell me everything that has happened and everything that has led up to it. Don't write until you are certain._

_Second:_

_Don't try to find me._

I tried to make sense of it, but I couldn't. I turned it this way and that, trying to figure out what it meant exactly, but then I gave up. It must have gotten stuck in there during school or something. Yeah. That made sense.

At that moment, my mom called us down for dinner. I ran down, my stomach empty after my little hurling incident before. Birdie was slower, taking a few minutes.

Mom put the dinner plates on the table, and right then, my dad looked at me and nodded. The only thing I think we ever agreed on was food. It was out little thing that kept us connected, if only by the tiniest thread. We all had our forks and knives' ready- excluding Birdie, who looked sleepy- but my mom held up her hand. We all settled down.

She smiled. "Now," She said, looking at me and Birdie. "Who took the hide-a-key from under the matt today? I had to call your father just to get in my own house. Promise I won't be mad." She crossed over her heart, but my Dad had a large scowl on his face.

"So just fess up. The dumb-ass who took it doesn't get dinner." He began filling up his plate, but mom grabbed his hand.

"Put it down Alex, or you get no dinner." My dad huffed but settled down.

Birdie and I said in unison "Wasn't me."

Mom furrowed her brow, and didn't stop my dad this time when he made a quick move for the potatoes, a smirk coming over his face. I stopped then thinking it was kind of like looking in a mirror, my dad with that suspicious smirk of his, looking just like mine. Sometimes I forgot just how much more I was like him, whether I liked it or not.

Mom sighed. "Did you drive that Meeks girl to school today?"

I spit out my potato. The thought of Courtney made me feel sick all over again. "Yeah," I said, pushing my plate away from me.

Mom looked to Birdie. "How did your day go?"

Birdie sniffed, frowning. "I got a job." Her voice was monotone, and she looked to me. "You want a gig, little bro? The boss is nice, and there are some other kids there." Birdie had told me long ago she was sweet on me if only because she had changed more than one of my diapers when she was only a toddler herself, and she felt pity on me for being so small.

I shrugged, my new-found loss of appetite getting the better of me. "I don't know." The look in Birdies eyes made me waver. "I'll sleep on it."

"Cool." Birdie said, and I could see that she satisfied. Mom tried to speak to her about the job, what it was, but Birdie kept sneaking glances at me as if to ask how I kept up with them.

Sometimes I forget that Birdie is really their child. She plays the part of a prisoner oh-so well.

A/N: So thanks for the reviews and stuff and I guess that I'll keep updating this story pretty often, or I'll at least try. Thank you! -Cereal


	4. Chapter Four: Process of Understanding

_When You Reach Me_

Chapter Four:

The Complicated Process of Understanding

When my cousin Jake was born, he was born retarded. It was a sad day in our household, and I was only six, so I didn't get it. When I asked Birdie she said that it meant he was stupid. When I told my mom while she was washing the dishes that Jake was just a retard, she slapped me softly with soapy hands, saying that I was not a nice little boy. She told me that it had something to do with not getting enough oxygen to your brain when you were born, and that it was a sad state and blah, blah, blah. I told her I was gonna ask Daddy because she must not have known what it meant to be retarded.

I went up to my dad in his chair, who had been reading the news paper with some coffee. "Dad. Dad. Dad."

"What, Duncan? What is so damn important that you have to interrupt my paper?" My Dad's words were hard, yes, but his eyes were soft, and he set down his paper. That was when he used to think I was cute. I think it was because I couldn't really be sarcastic back then.

I looked up and him, and saw Birdie sitting on the couch, watching Dad from the corners of her eyes and trying to read some book that was below her grade level. "Does retarded mean you are stupid?"

Dad rolled his eyes. "No Duncan. The term is 'special', and they aren't stupid. They're less fortunate."

"Liar." Birdie spat, sticking out her tongue.

Dad's eyebrows narrowed, and his jaw set tight, and I could tell that he was chewing on his lip. "What makes you say that, Bird?"

Birdie put a finger up to her chin, licking her lips. "Retarded kids aren't less fortunate. I'm less fortunate. I'm dyslexic. They are just stupid." She pointed a finger to her chest. "I know because the stupid kid in my class is retarded and he can't even talk right. He has to go to stupid classes, and he throws stupid temper tantrums because he's _stupid."_

Dad slit his eyes at her. "Birdie, what if someone called you stupid?"

"Why would anyone call me stupid?" She said, and my eyes darted back and forth between them. This was how it started. As much as I'd like to say that me and my Dad got in the worst fights, those fights were usually over Birdie. I was defending her, and he was not.

Dad shrugged sarcastically. "Why don't you read a paragraph out of that book Birdie?"

I got a cold chill. Even when I was six, I knew that Birdie couldn't read. "Birdie-" I whispered, but it was too late.

Her face had gone plain, but I could see the embarrassment in her eyes. She looked to the book and started to attempt to read. "But you see… M-meg…" She pushed her face into the book, her eyebrows furrowing. I could see small tears in her eyes. "…just be… be… be…cause…Because! Just because we don't… un…stand. Unstand-"

"Do you mean _understand?" _My Dad looked to me with a frown, as if to say, _what is wrong with her? _But I just looked to Birdie and saw that she fully crying, running upstairs before dad could see, dropping her book on the way. Later, I picked it up, seeing that it was called _A Wrinkle In Time. _It was to become my favorite book and I found the sentence Birdie had tried to say and could read it with ease. "But you see Meg, just because we don't understand doesn't mean that the explanation doesn't exist." I knew that retarded people weren't stupid, and neither was Birdie.

We just didn't understand.

_When You Reach Me_

I took Courtney to school again the next day. It got less and less awkward as time went on.

"Sweetheart?"

"What, you pig?"

"Nothing."

She would sigh, flip in her seat, but at least it was normal. The day before had been full of misunderstandings that I just couldn't make sense of. I looked to Courtney, but she would loom away, though sometimes I could catch her out of the corner of my eye. I knew what she was doing. She was trying to figure me out. It was one thing most people didn't take the time to do, but I could imagine that if you were going to drive in a car with someone for so long you might as well get to know them.

I kept trying to tell myself that this was the reason I wanted to see her brown eyes crinkle when she frowned at me, why wanted to reach over and rub small circles in her back for no apparent reason. Because I just wanted to figure her out.

Right? I would question myself. That's why, RIGHT?

_When You Reach Me_

Birdie wanted me to come and see her job, so she told me that she would pick me up. That also meant that she would have to drive Courtney.

"Who the hell is Courtney? Your new slut?" She wasn't pleasant about the whole idea. Birdie had hated the thought of me dating anyone in the beginning. She had been the one to say that cooties were real, that girls liked gay guys so don't let them like you. She believed that woman was the source of evil. Which was why she was an anti-feminist- "That mean that if I had a dick, I'd tell all those bitches to suck it."

By 'bitches' she meant the girls she had known at her school. Birdie had never been accepted by anybody but potheads, and it was just easier to blame it on all the girls. Birdie fit in perfectly with guys, for reasons I didn't want to address. But she had never been one to have a best friend to talk about all her girl shit. So she talked to me instead.

"For one- she's not a slut. Two- we don't go out or anything. I just drive her to school." I spoke through the pay phone carefully, covering my mouth. It had become stupid to let people know where you were going to get picked up and when, because they were always hoping to jack your car or something. There was always that occasional kid who would stand beside the bathroom, their eyes obviously sliding to other places but their ears poised for you. I had heard of one kid who heard that some little girl was getting picked up on 32nd street and then he had trapped her in the park and raped her. It was sick, but it wasn't like it was some onetime thing that could never happen in a million years. It was something that was happening to people every day.

I knew even when I was little that people could be hurt, but it took you forever to realize that it wasn't just by some stranger, but by anyone. Anyone and everyone could hurt you, in too many ways to count, and if you're ignorant enough to not wrap your hand around that pay phone and speak quietly, then you deserved it. You deserved it for thinking that maybe, just maybe, the world could be pure. Because that is just plain stupid.

"That's just plain stupid." Birdie breathed, and I could hear her flicking a match across something. "That is the biggest load of bull crap I think I have ever heard. When are you too gonna fuck, Duncan?" I could hear the sound of her inhaling and exhaling, and I rolled my eyes. Only she would have the nerve to talk on the phone when she was high.

"Just come to pick me up and we'll drop her off at her house, OK? It's not like she's someone who enjoys my company, and I don't really enjoy hers." When I said this, it didn't come out as easily as it should have. I imagined it sliding off my tongue, as though it was toxic. It felt wrong to say it, but it had already been said.

Birdie exhaled and coughed a bit. "OK, but only because Three's Company too." I was ready to start singing the theme song, but I heard the phone hang up. I thought of Courtney, and I hated the reason why Birdie was mad. When we were little, I used to sing 'My girl' to her sometimes just because I said she was my favorite girl in the world. I think she's afraid that if I started singing it to someone else, she'd be nobody's nothing.

_When You Reach Me_

I saw Courtney on the steps at the school entrance. The bell had just rung, but Courtney always got let out early because she always got her work done first. The teachers loved her, of course, and I guess that somehow gave everyone else a reason to rag on her. Geoff had told me that it must suck driving her to school and back. Gwen had chuckled and asked how I would survive driving 'The Queen'.

To tell you that truth, I wasn't amused. Gwen caught on. "Oh, are we getting protective now?" She gave me a lazy look, as if to tell me I was pulling out a big load of shit.

I shrugged, my eyes hazy. I could get away with just being that way in this school. In these days, you could get by with only holding yourself as though you could. Your popularity was determined by how much you _weren't _out to get it, and how you acted like you just DIDN'T GIVE A SHIT. "She's not as bad as you think. She actually has this sort of style."

Geoff nodded his head, but Gwen just licked her lips. "Don't forget where you come from, Duncan. Don't forget that she's her, and well, you're always gonna be you."

I scowled, my face getting heated. I hated to think that way. Maybe I wasn't as rich as Courtney, but hell, that meant nothing. That meant absolutely nothing. "What does that have to do with anything? It doesn't matter where the fuck you come from, Gwen." Pardon my language, but I was pissed. I didn't ever get pissed in front of people that much, I was better with the laid-back persona. But something in me felt suddenly defensive.

I walked out of school, and Geoff called my name, but Gwen told him to stop. I could hear here mumble, "He's out to get himself hurt."

People in school backed away from me as I headed toward the doors, out of fear or respect I didn't know. I felt like I had something to prove, and it hit me hard when I realized that I wasn't defensive about myself. I was being an asshole defending Courtney. And I had no idea why.

I walked up to her, and even though she wasn't looking at me, even though her eyes were turned away, I could still see the sparkle that haunted them. She had eyes that I'd never seen before, that looked into space but I somehow knew was staring beyond. Courtney turned to me and frowned, but I saw a smirk in her eyes.

Somehow, I found it in my heart to smile even after my spew with my so-called best friends. "Well, pig? Are we gonna get this show on the road or not?" And I knew that no matter what Birdie or Gwen said, I had something worth fighting for. If I could just figure out one question: Why was I fighting?

She stood up and walked ahead of me and I realized I wouldn't know unless I followed along. Something in my mind had changed, something more than just my sudden realization.

I liked Courtney. And well, I wasn't gonna hide it from myself. I wasn't going to end up believing that someone like me couldn't at least have someone like her actually feel something for me back. I guess it was just something that I didn't understand.

Yet.

**OK, so now were getting into Duncan admitting to himself that he has feelings for Courtney. I'm sorry that these first few chapters are going so slow, but it has to. This story is over a short period of time, so every detail is one that matters. I'm sorry for people who hate how it takes three chapters to get out a day, but you don't know how many 'days' this story will last. Answer? Not too many. So don't think I'm going to drag this out more than I should. Please.**

**Anyway, I wanted to put some joke in here about 'Driving About Miss Daisy', but that wasn't produced until 1989, and this story is set in the 1970's. Dammit.**

**But any who, I do love this story. I just love putting out Duncan's POV. **

**OK, so, I guess… Review!**


	5. Chapter Five: You and Your Moments

_When You Reach Me_

Chapter Four:

You And Your Moments

My family has always been old fashioned, so my mom is always taking lots of pictures. I have a dozen scrapbooks full of just a million pictures of me, and there are still so many left just laying around the house. It's my mom's hobby. When you're a stay at home mom, you have to have something to remind you why you give a crap about these people, I guess. Mom claims its for making memories. She said that photo's last forever.

Well, if you look on the mantle in the living room, you're gonna see a photo. I always thought that this photo meant nothing, but it's really important, so I'm gonna tell you about it. This letter has to have everything in it, and though I don't know how it fits exactly, I know the picture is vital to everything that happened. Not the picture, but the moment.

I mean, there are a lot of pictures on the mantle, but this one is in the front. My mom says it's nice to have this picture up front. I think it's only because the Meek's family is in it and she pretty much kisses the ground they walk on since they loaned us money a long while back. I never paid attention to it until I was finally able to reach the mantle, which was about seventh grade. Birdie just got to the point where she could see it about three years back.

But anyway, the photo's kinda weird. It has my mom and dad standing there, my Dad with the usually bored and frustrated for no reason look on his face, but he's younger, wearing a young police uniform that hangs on him limply. My mom's smile probably wouldn't look believable to some people, but I know that her face looks like that when she's going to cry from happiness. She's wearing a Bee Gees t-shirt and her eyes look OK from the distance the shot was taken, but she might have been high. And the Meek's family is there too. Courtney's mom is smiling happily, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, but her dad has this worried look on his face that I can't remember his not wearing. He was always skipping words when he talked, and he talked really fast. He was a fidgety man, someone who I'd beat up.

But the picture was taken long before I could beat the crap out of someone. I'm only three months old in the picture. I am in my dad's arms, my shaggy black hair covering my face that is plastered with a stupid look, and I'm grabbing for my father's ear. Courtney was born only a week before the picture was taken. Her small face is cuddled up into her mother's chest, her eyes closed tight, looking as though she was scared half to death. It's the only time I've ever heard of a baby crying without yelling or opening its mouth wide. She just has small, almost invisible tears rolling down her face. It's weird, because I could barely see them when I first saw the picture. Now they stick out in my mind.

But that's not what makes it weird. It's Birdie, or more or less what she's doing. She's really young, and wearing this yellow dress (Birdie in a dress is weird, yeah, but that's not it). She's waving to this guy in the background who is walking away from the house. She's smiling at him all big and wide. He's hiding his face, but you can see his pale eyes looking behind his hoodie. But it's obvious he's not looking at Birdie and her waving hands.

He's looking straight at Courtney, staring at her almost, her little eyes shut tight, terrified. I almost felt a little mad at this guy, some weirdo staring down a baby. But something tells me he had the right to stare at her. Something tells me that behind that hoodie, he's crying too.

Maybe it was just me, but I felt like I knew this man. To this day, I swear I've seen him not just once or twice, but a lot. I feel like I know him a bit. A little. I just can't place him. By the looks of the picture, Courtney and Birdie know him too.

It was just a moment in time that no one really thought about, that's just sitting there on the mantle. But it's so much more than that. It's a moment that helped me understand. It helped me understand that things can change. My Dad can get a new badge, my mom can lose the Bee Gees and the glazed eyes, I can get a Mohawk, Birdie can switch the dress out for a smoke, Courtney cannot let herself cry anymore.

But it also helps me see that you can capture moments like this every day, and never know. There may be a billion special moments like this that would mean more to me, but this is all that I have. And it's important. Not just to this stupid letter, or story, or whatever you want to call it. It's important to me. It's a photo that scares me and makes me wonder. I didn't know you had anything to do with that moment. I never would have guessed.

But I was wrong. You were that moment. Everything about that moment, everything that was happening and that happened, was due to you.

_When You Reach Me_

Courtney seemed to cringe when I told her Birdie was coming to pick us up. "Who in the world is Birdie?"

Obviously you understand that my family and the Meek's family don't communicate as much as we used to. Our mothers are our only thread that connects us, and it's growing thin. But it was still amazing how both Courtney and Birdie had known each other so well when they were young. Birdie has picture on her wall of her holding Courtney when she was just a baby, of getting her a small teddy bear, her first teddy bear, for Christmas. And now, neither of them gave a crap about each other. Like our mom's, I was the thin thread connecting everyone.

I rolled my eyes. "My sister is coming to pick us up and take me to a new job." Courtney gave me a dumbfounded look. "You guys used to hang out when you were little? Really little? Come on, you have to have some pictures of a girl with blonde hair running around your house."

Courtney twisted her fingers together. "I mean, I don't pay attention to most of the pictures in my house. Besides, it's not like we take that many." She shrugged, and she squinted hard, like there was something she couldn't understand. "You know, they don't have any pictures of me when I first born, in the hospital, you know? It's like no one bothered to pull out a camera or something." She looked to me and chewed on her lip. "So I never really got to see any pictures of myself that much, much less your sister."

I felt something in that moment, and I almost ignored it. But I reached over and put my arm over Courtney's shoulders. "Sorry your childhood was a total disappointment, doll." I let the sarcasm roll off my tongue easily. It felt natural, but I like the way her body tensed a little under my touch and then softened to it.

"Yeah. It was the worst point of my life time; never being able to walk where I wanted, wearing these ridiculous diapers, and I don't even have any damn pictures to prove I went through that torture." Courtney rolled her eyes. "My damn childhood." She smirked a little, leaning into me. I almost gasped, but Courtney slid out of my arms, looking at the doors behind us where people were crawling out from school.

I didn't understand. Courtney avoided eye contact with all these people, as though she was lower than them. I mean, Courtney had some friends, but being the smart kid must suck. She understood things so much better than people, like history and math. She had shortcuts no one in our class and I bet no one in America had thought of, and she was always ashamed of it. It was really sick, the way kids either ignored her or shot her dirty looks every time we got our report cards in the mail that day.

Courtney whispered to me, "I'll go to the job with you guys." She didn't reach my eyes, and turned and headed the other way to the parking lot, heading for the bench over there. It was weird. Courtney might not get treated right, but it's not like she would sit around and take it.

But I turned and saw that in that crowd of people was Geoff and Gwen. Geoff came up behind me, a big grin on his face. "Later dude." He turned his hand to knuckle touch me, and I couldn't find it in my heart to ignore him. A smile played across my face and I knuckle touched him back, saying, "We're cool." Gwen wouldn't look at me. She just shook her head, pulling Geoff along with her.

I looked around for Courtney, but instead my eyes caught on the mess which was Harold's bruised face. He had a terrible black eye. He stared at me from across the building. He then looked to Courtney. Not with fear, but another emotion haunting his eyes.

It was the strangest thing, because I could of sworn that as his head turned back to face me from afar, he mouthed the words, '_Don't hurt her.'_

_When You Reach Me_

For all my life I have always had two friends. Yeah, I mean, Birdie was there, but she's my sister. She's already my best friend. But these two were there for me even though we weren't related. And I thought my whole life that I'd be like Birdie and have no real friends. But I was wrong. Because somehow I managed to find the best friends a guy could ask for.

Geoff was actually my first friend. I remember that as soon as he told me he was dyslexic, I smiled, and told him that I knew about his kind. I told him that i knew he just see words that no one else could, that he had a special power just like my sister. I told him that it meant the whole world was against you and you were fighting it. I told him, Geoff, you yourself are just one huge rebellion against mankind. And that's why you're my brother.

Geoff didn't get the speech when we were five and he didn't get it now when he was seventeen. "But it sounds beautiful anyway, bra, and that's why you're my bud." Birdie loves Geoff. She loves him with all her heart. I think she actually has the tiniest of crushes on him, but wouldn't admit it to save her life. Sometimes her and Geoff would just sit and talk for hours about dyslexic, and how they had always thought 'The Cat in the Hat' was about something complete different and off subject.

Gwen was my second friend. I didn't meet her until sixth grade. My Dad likes her. My mom hates her. So does Birdie. Birdie says that she'll always hate Gwen. But I just think she has a with problem with the fact that's Gwen's female and has an OK life. "I don't like her because she think she knows what it means to hurt. What a lame-ass."

Mom doesn't like her because Gwen got me into my punk phase. No, she couldn't make me as hardcore as her, but I'm a mix of her and Geoff. My mom would have just preferred the Geoff part. Mom acts nice to Gwen, but my mom is an easy faker. She'll throw a plate at you instead of saying 'Hear you go sweetie.' She'll ignore you when you yell from the bathroom that you need some more toilet paper instead of telling you that's under the sink. She'll won't say hello. She'll just look at you and lift her cheeks up in an unenthusiastic way.

Dad loves her. "Good kid." That meant A LOT coming from my Dad. He actually told Gwen that she looked nice. My mom can't even get one of those more than once a month. I've never gotten a compliment from my Dad. All his compliments are just harsh remarks in a-not-very-well-hidden disguise. "Oh, you don't look that shitty. Just a teeny bit." The sad thing is that, for my Dad, that's called being generous.

I'm friends with Gwen because I liked her from the start. I told her she was grade-A badass. And for a little while in the early years of high school we thought that we'd do good as a couple. But it didn't work. Because yeah, Gwen is a great person. She's a great person willing to commit to someone once she knows who they are. She doesn't doubt her guy, and she's in it for the long run. And I'm not. I'm just an idiot. She needs someone better. And somewhere deep inside her, she knew that we weren't gonna stay the way we are forever.

Think about it. There's no way I'll have a Mohawk for my whole life and she's gonna be more than your average mall Goth. So it can't work that well. Because our attitudes match now, yeah. But that's just a moment, like you said. If me and Gwen were meant to be, I wouldn't be writing this letter. I wouldn't be thinking about you sometimes and just crying and beating myself up because I never knew that you'd mean this much to me. I never knew that it'd hurt this much to lose you. It hurt to lose you because everything good in my life is due to you. If it weren't for you... I think maybe I'd be gone too.

And Gwen doesn't mean that much to me. I care about her, but not the way that you cared about the people in your life. Not the way you cared about her and someone you had never met before. It hurts to know that no one will ever be able to care the way you do. You gave it all for people.

You gave everything. You save her life. You saved _her _life. And it saved my life, even if that wasn't the goal in the first place.

You saved my life. You, of all people, saved my life.

_When You Reach Me_

A/N: So is this person? Who is _'You' _that Duncan keeps talking about? -Mystery- -waves hand spookily-

But I took some time to introduce different characters and for you to get a feel of how much all of this means to Duncan. He's torn up about something and it's eating you alive isn't it? You wanna know _so_ bad.

Or you might not. :P

But anyway, if you feel that you need more DxC, just wait. Just you wait. Cause things are gonna get awesome in the next three or four chapters… the next chapter will probably be funnier, because I feel that I made this one way too much darker and sad than it needed to be.

And NO: I do not hate DunGwen. Don't think I'm saying that. Gosh. I'm just saying that high school stereotypes can't last a lifetime, much less a relationship, and I'm trying to show you that Duncan does have some feelings, I mean, his heart isn't just some black hole. (You never know…)

OK, but anyways, I love you readers, and I love you reviewers with my heart. So feel free to R&R!... Please. :D

Love you all (and I'm so sorry for the long authors note)- Cereal


	6. Chapter Six: The Caged Birdie Sings

_When You Reach Me_

Chapter Six:

The Caged Birdie Sings

Birdie's car was a terrible car. A total waste of gas and money and time. I hated that car with my life and I'm pretty sure it hates me back. That car is my worst enemy. Hate. That. Car.

So you can imagine how embarrassed I was when Birdie came up the school behind the wheel of that piece of crap. "Aww, Bird." I yelled out to her, as me and Courtney neared the car. "You had to bring the shit wagon?"

Courtney elbowed me. "At least she came, that's what matters." Her face went from angry at me to smiling at Birdie. "Hi, I'm Courtney, and it's so nice to-"

"Duncan." Birdie blinked. She stared at me and totally cut off Courtney. "Is she coming with or what?" Birdie's an asshole sometimes. She was being a shit to Courtney. And after seeing Courtney all sad, I was pissed. I was pissed at people trying to hurt her.

"Birdie, why don't you say hi?" It's complicated trying to be nice. Especially to someone who can't seem to be kind if their life depended on it. I strained my face to make an I-don't-give-a-fuck face, but my eyes screamed '_For one minute just don't be an ass wipe and realize that I kinda like this chick'._

Birdie narrowed her eyes, looked at Courtney, grunted, and said, "Hi. Yes, I'm Birdie. Let's go." She acted like it hurt her to acknowledge another girl. Possibly, it might.

I got in the backseat so Courtney couldn't see all the shit that Birdie was to ignorant to throw away- old candy wrappers, some loose change, ABC gum, some condoms (and let's not dwell to deep on what my sister may do with those), some little rolled up bags that still smell of blunts. She even has a pipe on the floor. What a dumb ass.

As soon as I get in the car, and as Courtney gets in shotgun, I can tell just by the look on her face- '_Drugs. Lots of drug-use.' _The whole car reeked of pot and men. Courtney looked scared. She looked at Birdie, and then she said the worst thing I think I could ever say to Birdie in her life.

"Why the hell does it smell like a big drug dealership in here?" Courtney's eyes looked mad. Birdie's face was surprised and shocked. Who the hell was Courtney to talk to big bad Birdie that way? "I'm serious. A cop can roll by any minute and just say, "Well, looks like we got one," because this car smells like shit and weed. Disgusting."

I almost died in that moment. Courtney and Birdie were having a stare down. Birdie took a deep breath and said, "You're right. I should get a new one, shouldn't I?"

And my whole mind did a cartwheel. I thought to myself that one of them was going to rip off the others head. But that's not what happened. They just... started talking.

Courtney laughed. "Well, I mean, the car looks like it's from '54 or something. You seem like someone who'd like something way better than this. Or at least, you know, fix it up."

Birdie narrowed her brow, but her expression was curious. "Oh well, hell yeah, I've wanted a different car my whole life. I mean, Dad gave me this shit box because he didn't think I deserved any better, but I have no mechanic skills at all. And all my friends are always trashing it, and I'm always thinking, one day I'll clean it out, but I never do."

And then Birdie smiled. Birdie. Smiled. At. A. Female. Person. "Is there something wrong with me?"

Courtney smiled back. "Well, I'm so disorganize I can't even _drive. _I keep telling myself that one day I'll learn how and I never do. At least you have the guts to drive."

"At least you have the guts to say something about this crap car." She looked to me. "Duncan has just been making jokes about it forever, because I guess he somewhat likes the dirty life. I fucking hate this car. I hate it. Apparently, Duncan just doesn't care."

Courtney rolled her eyes. "Such a guy."

Birdie's eyes twinkled for the first time in years, and somewhere, I saw something click in her. "I know, right?"

_When You Reach Me_

When Birdie had told me about the job, the smarter thing to do would have probably been to _ask _what exactly the job, what it included, what was supposed to be done. What the PAY was. Those would have been smart, reasonable questions that the regular smart, reasonable person would think to ask.

Of course I was neither smart nor reasonable, so these questions had not came up in my mind. It was my fault when all I could think was, "What?" when Birdie, Courtney and I walked into Chris's House of Sandwich's. I had expected Birdie to have found a skate shop, a Kroger, something way more her style. Not a Burger joint.

"It's not a Burger Joint, you maggot!" The cook was apparently a retired war veteran. He was tall, dark, husky, and so far on my 'I hate you a whole lot more than I hate normal people' list. There was no doubt in my mind that I was on his list too. "It's a sandwich shop! We make sandwich's, not grease bucket burgers!"

Like myself, Courtney was looking to the Chef with displeasure, but Birdie smiled easily. "Ease up, Hatchet. My bro is a newbie. He'll get it sooner or later."

At the moment the door marked 'Employee's Only' crashed open. A nicely dressed man with great hair came up to Chef Hatchet. "Calm down, calm down, I can hear you through the whole place. And we have some customers who could use some burgers-"

"Sandwich's, you maggot!"

"Whatever!" The man snapped, but quickly found his composure and smiled. "Just get in the kitchen and cook." Chef looked as though there was nothing more he wanted to do than to snap the man in half (which I was very sure he could do, considering his size) but he groaned angrily and walked into the kitchen, seeming to shake the floor with each step.

"OK," said the man, grinning at us. "So here's the deal. My name's Chris. Just run the place right, don't bother me, and you'll get your money." Birdie nodded her head, seeming to enjoy his lack of explanation.

Courtney however, blinked, a look of confusion spreading across her face. "Don't you want to see our resumes, or our job experience?" I was very sure that Courtney hadn't brought a resume, but hey, this was Courtney. Of course she'd ask.

Although I didn't usually agree with Courtney, I found myself wondering the same thing too. But I didn't say anything. I wasn't going to embarrass myself and worry about the rules.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Don't be a stickler." He looked to us as if we were all a waste of time. "I'm tired of talking." He said lazily. "Just ask Chef's daughter what to do. She knows more than me."

As Chris walked back into the 'employee's only' door, I could see Courtney's mouth about to explode with the hundreds, hell, maybe thousands of questions that had been piling up inside her in the last fifteen seconds. I grabbed her hand, and well, I was about to say something reasonable when I realized that we were holding hands.

Of course, if I could have stopped that moment and held it out for the rest of time I would have, because her hand felt so warm, and her eyes almost started to let the questions fade as a smile crept into them.

But then a loud banging noise was heard and Courtney swiftly pulled her hand away from mine, her face flushed red and her eyes irritated. I peeled my eyes away from her to see where the noise had come from.

Dishes and a cash register had tumbled over the counter, and a heavy-set black girl was staring at it with shock and guilt. "Oops!" She said, laughing. "Sorry ya'll." Duncan knew he recognized her. Then he remembered- she had been the one to help Harold up when Courtney had punched him. _Oh._

"What the-" He heard Chef's voice come loud and clear. He could hear his footsteps coming fast on the slick tile floor.

"It's fine!" The girl said, waving us over, as we stepped towards it. "Everything's fine, Dad." I heard a few grunts as Chef's footsteps faintly seemed to fade away, back into the kitchen.

The girl put the cash register back on the counter, picking up the dishes and throwing the few broken one's in the trash. "Hey, Birdie." Birdie saluted her, and the girl chuckled. "Is this your brother?"

"Yeah," Birdie said, and then she pointed to Courtney. "And this is his whore." After their friendly conversation in the car, you would think Birdie would be nicer, but it didn't surprise. Being nice wasn't really in her vocabulary.

Courtney opened her mouth to protest, but I interrupted her. "We're just friends." I shot a look at Birdie, but looked back to the girl with a lame grin. "I'm Duncan, she's Courtney." I'm not sure if Courtney recognized her or not, but the girl apparently didn't remember Courtney. She smiled at her as though Courtney had never punched some poor nerd. But, you know, she did.

The girl nodded, shaking her head. "Well, I'm LaShawnna, and the Chef is my dad. Just stay out of his way and he'll… well, I'll try to make sure he steers clear of yours." She smiled gingerly.

Duncan nodded. He looked to Courtney, who, reluctantly, said OK. And Birdie, of course, was smiling wider than the sun. "We're gonna rule this burger joint!"

Chef's voice came booming. "Sandwiches!"

_When You Reach Me_

When Birdie first dropped out of school, I hadn't known what was going on. At my local elementary school, everyone told me that my sister was a failure. A little boy at recess told me that my sister was too stupid to even stay in school.

I had no idea what he was talking about. It was the first fight I ever gotten in at school. I had punch the lights out of that kid- when you're only in fourth grade, you aren't that good at giving someone their licks, but hell, it was hurting him. That's all that mattered.

All I have to say is that fighting is scary. Everyone around you is yelling and screaming, and the person, they won't let you go. Once you start a fight, it's hard to get out. And all I wanted was out. But I couldn't. So I just kept hitting him. I was crying and crying, but I just kept hitting him.

When I was sent home, I told my parents about what had made me do that. I told them that the kid had been telling lies and saying that Birdie was stupid and that she was a failure. My mom had held me and told me, "Of course she's not a failure."

But my dad's eyes had been hard as stone. He had watched me and shook his head. I saw the truth in his eyes- he thought Birdie was a failure. He did. I looked at him and started crying again, and my mom just patted my head.

Birdie was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, watching my dad. She was crying too, but not as loudly as me. She never took her eyes off our dad, and to this day, whenever she looks at him, even if she's looking at him with hatred or distaste or with boredom, I can still see it in her eyes.

In her eyes, you can always see that same look, the one that hold the thoughts of how much she just wants him to say that he loves her again.

A/N: So there you have it! I'm so sorry. It took me too long to come out with this. I usually update quicker…

But anyways, I wanted to introduce some more people from the TDI cast. They are all important. Everything is important. Also, the DxC will be heating up. Just give me some time. Give me some time.

Thank you all for reviewing and reading! It means bunches to get love and support!

Thanks for reading! –Love, Cereal :D


	7. Chapter Seven: The Meeks Family Secrets

_When You Reach Me_

Chapter 7:

Secrets Of The Meeks Family

After our very first shift at the burger joint, which included not much training and a lot of fucked-up sandwiches, Birdie got in her car and sped off. Didn't even ask if we wanted a ride. It was so much like her, but I didn't really mind. I hated that car anyway.

Courtney and I walked the rest of the way back to her house smelling faintly of grease and sweat. It was hot back in the kitchen, but not a complete waste of time. We got our pay check on Friday, so it was all worth it. I had snuck a few sandwiches out to take home. No one even noticed.

We were quiet most of the walk there, but I knew Courtney bottom lip was always full of words. Five minutes was her limit. "Your sister…" She trailed off, not wanting to say more, but it was already out there, in the air. I wasn't going to answer that. There's a lot I could say about that huge subject. "She's… kind of odd."

I smirked, throwing an arm around Courtney and rolling my eyes. "You know, you don't have to be subtle. We all know she's an asshole." I don't know why, but I felt comfortable talking about this with Courtney. Something about her helped me realize that she wasn't trying to be mean. She was just curious.

She bit her lip and nodded. "She is. But I mean, she's worse than you. And it's weird, because she seems like someone who would have a heart." Courtney glanced at me and then almost smiled. "Even though your kind of an idiot, you still… You still aren't mean just for the sake of it."

As we neared her house, I shrugged. "She's been through a lot. A lot of people let her down." I pulled her closer to me. "And anyways, she likes you. Trust me. Calling you a whore means a lot of love in Birdie's book."

Courtney laughed dryly but then stopped, looking at her house. I looked too, and saw what she was staring at.

Courtney's mom was not at all bad looking. She looked beautiful, but not much like Courtney. They were both nice, of course, but Ms. Meeks was lighter skinned than Courtney, her hair near black while Courtney's was brown. Her face was like a model, which, if I think back, my mom had said something about that. She had been a model when she was younger. It was weird because her figure was absolutely perfect, even when she was supposed to be pregnant. She hadn't come out of the house for a long time, but came out of the pregnancy with no stretch marks, nothing. My mom's face was a bit heated at that one.

In a word, Courtney's mom was smokin'.

She looked to Courtney and me with a bored expression. I automatically took my arm away from Courtney's shoulders. Her mom smiled at me. "How about you come on in, Mr. Montgomery?" It was really weird to hear someone call me that. It sounded like me dad. I mentally vomited. "I'd like to talk with you for a moment."

Courtney scoffed and tried to protest with her mother, but then Ms. Meeks quickly snapped. "I insist." More like demand, I thought, but Courtney grunted as she stormed towards the house, something about 'why the hell if she so difficult' or something like that.

I wasn't all that into the idea of coming into the house, and if it had been anyone else I probably would've just walked away. But my parents owed this lady cash. I had to, or she might just come to our house demanding more.

I walked up the porch steps with a certain fear. As hot as Courtney's mom was, she wasn't even half as friendly as Courtney, and Courtney wasn't even all that friendly to begin with!

I sighed. I was more afraid of this lady than I was of Chef Hatchet. What was wrong with me?

_When You Reach Me_

When I first started school, I remember Courtney's hair. That was one thing that always stuck in my mind about her. She had this short hair. Like I've already said, I always thought it was so she wouldn't get bubble gum in it.

The first time I saw Courtney's mom was when I really little, but I couldn't actually place her back then because I was a little ADHD. But I always remember than her and Courtney NEVER got along.

Not even when we we're really little. Whenever Courtney's mom was around, Courtney was always super angry and irritated. Her dad wasn't any help to the matter. What sucked was that Courtney's mom actually loved her to death.

I can't ever say I saw Courtney's dad around for Courtney that much, but her mom was always taking great care of her. She always tried to give Courtney the best she could. But Courtney seemed to actually hate her for it.

The first time I ever saw Courtney cry was in second grade. Tears poured down her face like a waterfall. She had been in the boy's bathroom. When I had told her that she was in the wrong restroom, she had only cried harder. "Hey, it's OK, it's-"

She spoke through choked sobs. "I hate my mom, OK? She lies to me all the time, I can feel it. She's always hiding something from me."

I couldn't say anything. I just stood there and handed her some toilet paper. She nodded at me through her tears. I think we made a little agreement. Don't mess with me, I won't mess with you. Done and done.

But I count that as the first time I met Courtney. I feel that was the first time we had a little heart-to-heart, and so when people ask when I met Courtney, I don't say that I was there when she was born, or that our families had spent time together all the time. Because none of that has to do with the real me and it doesn't have anything to do with the real Courtney.

I met Courtney in second grade. I think that was the same day I met her mom. Or at least a new part of her.

_When You Reach Me_

Again, Courtney's house ceased to amaze me. Courtney told her mom she was going upstairs to take a shower, and I'm really glad I was in a different room so that they couldn't see my jaw drop. It's very exciting to know that the person you kinda sort of like is taking a shower while you're in the house. I almost let my imagination drift off but Courtney's mom walked into the room as I could faintly hear the shower start in the distance of the house.

She sat on the leather couch and patted the space beside her, a sneaky smile on her face. It was odd, because Courtney's mom was almost as tall as me. It was easier with Courtney who was like, eight inches smaller than me.

I reluctantly sat on the couch and Me. Meeks smile faltered. "I suppose if you're going to start liking my daughter there are some things you should know." I tried to protest before she interrogated me, but then she just laughed. "Don't worry, don't worry, I've just got some things to say to you. No questions. You don't even have to talk."

She pulled out a lighter from the drawer next to couch, lighting up a cigarette she had sitting on the coffee table, bringing it to her lips and taking a long drag. I feel bad to say this, but I absolutely love nicotine. It's delicious. I could understand why Courtney's mom actually offered me one. I shook my head even though a smoke didn't sound so bad right about then. I felt like smoking with her would someone get me on Courtney's bad side.

Her mom blew out a ring of smoke and continued to talk. "First of all, you need to know that Courtney's dad has left us."

I blinked. "What?" I remembered Courtney's dark expression that first day we had been in her house. _My Dad was in a rush this morning…_

Ms. Meeks took another drag and slumped in her seat, rubbing her temples with two fingers. "Yeah. He just got up and left, that coward. Just a few days ago. So Courtney's been very upset about that." She looked to me with a serious expression. "Doesn't help the fact that she can't stand me, either." Her eyes were red and blank, as though it was something she thought about all the time.

I felt really, really, sorry for her. Her whole life, she had been trying to make things good for Courtney, and Courtney never could accept her. And now, her husband was just gone. I had heard my mom chatting with her a few days ago on the phone. I would have never guessed that so much was going on.

Courtney's mom smiled at me. "You know, I feel like she's always sensed it. Like she's always had a feeling in the pit of her stomach that I was lying."

My head snapped up at her. "What are you talking about?" I flashed back to that time in second grade. _She lies to me all the time, I can feel it. She's always hiding something from me._

Her lip started to quiver. I really hoped that she wouldn't cry on me, but she just let out a shaky breath. "All my life, I wanted a child. And when I finally got pregnant, guess what? A miscarriage. I never even got to think about what I wanted to name that kid. I never even knew if it was a boy or a girl." I felt the confusion swirling around in my head. Miscarriage? "And then, Courtney showed up on our doorstep."

Nothing was making sense. What was going on? What was she talking about? Courtney showed up? "Someone left her there. Couldn't take care of her, I guess. She was tiny, had to be only two days old. I had been so depressed about the loss of that kid, I had stayed in the house for so long, and the day I opened the door, the best thing that ever happened to me was there." She smiled, her eyes younger, as though it was seventeen years before. "It was miracle. My beautiful Courtney. And I never had the heart to tell her she wasn't really mine."

As I failed to take it all in, we heard the shower go off. Courtney's mom looked to me with desperation. "I have no idea why I told you that. You just remind me so much of your mother, so trusting and-" We heard sounds coming from upstairs. "Please don't tell Courtney. She'd hate me."

My mind was doing 180 flips, not understanding anything. Here she was, with all the answers, but all that had done was leave me with more questions that before. She rushed me out of the house, and I could faintly hear stepped coming down stairs. "Please, please don't tell her, Duncan." She bit her lip and shut the door.

_When You Reach Me_

I tried not to think about, but what else was there to think about. Walking back home in the quiet of the evening left me with too much silence to think about everything her mother had said, about all the things Courtney didn't know. God, it was so wrong, so wrong, so-

Then I saw him, because he always shows up at the worst times. He was sitting under the mailbox, like usually, and he grinned at me. "Two! Two! Smart kid!"

For some reason, I felt myself walking over to him, that crazy old man. I had always had a fear of him since the day he had shown up, but I felt so sad and sick and horrible that I couldn't help but approach him.

I got down to his eye level. He smiled at me, a crazy smile and started rambling on, but not shouting this time. "Bookbag, pocketshoe, Bookbag, pocket…" I reached in my jacket and fished out one of the sandwiches I had snuck out from the burger joint. I unwrapped it and handed it to him, that skinny poor thing of a man. He looked to me and then back at the sandwich. "Good kid." He whispered, taking the sandwich carefully.

And with that, I stood and walked on home, the crazy man waving at me all the way down the street. Somewhere, from deep down, even with all the hurt and confusion and lies that were surrounding me right now, I found myself smiling back at him.

A/N: I'm so sorry! I took forever to get this out. –slaps face- I hate me.

But anyways, here's a hint: the next chapter has the SECOND note! –rubs hands together- That's as much as I can say.

Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter Eight: The Second Note

Disclaimer: I don't own 'Box of Rain' by Grateful Dead or TDI.

_When You Reach Me_

Chapter Eight:

The Second Note

My Dad has always been a quiet guy.

No matter what, I always knew I could count on him to keep shut. I always thought it meant that he wasn't a snitch, which was a reason to like my Dad, which kept us from killing each other. And I was right, yeah, my Dad wasn't a snitch, but that wasn't why he was so quiet. He had a different reason for sipping his coffee by himself, other things that made him the most silent person I've yet to meet.

And no one knows what those reasons are.

The truth is, my dad has secrets. He keeps to himself, sometimes he's even quiet around my mother, and she's probably the person who knows him best. But there are some things I can tell she can't understand about Dad. That's why she gets so mad at him sometimes. That's why she can't stand him and his job.

Like I said, Ma was always jealous because Dad had a job and she didn't. What made her even more sour on the whole situation was the fact that my dad never spoke of anything. He never came home talking about the job, never bragged about any promotions, just spoke of it quietly, in his quiet way. My mom can't take it. You look in her eyes and you can see how badly she wishes she _had _something to brag about. She hates that Dad acts like it's nothing.

She hates that he acts like it's nothing when it's really all she's ever wanted. Ma has never said that she doesn't like being in the house or taking care of us- I actually think that might be what keeps her sane and off our tails about petty things. But if she had a chance to have what my dad has, she sure wouldn't be so quiet about it.

But dad stays quiet. He might sometimes stare off for a long time, deep in thought. Birdie just says it because he's old as shit and the gray from his brain is seeping into his hair, but that's not it. I can't help but look at my dad with a bit of admiration. How could anyone be so damn quiet?

Dad always looks kind of sad, though, Like there is someone out there, waiting for him. Like he'd do anything to see them.

Like he knows he'll never have a chance.

_When You Reach Me_

If anything, sleeping was impossible. I woke up with bad bed-head and sticky morning breath that stuck to the roof of my mouth. I almost thought about not going to school.

But then I thought of Courtney. Oh my god. I couldn't help but think about her and her in the shower and her blushing when I held her hand at Chris's burger joint. The image of her mother with her swiveling hips blowing her perfect smoke rings and telling me how I couldn't tell anybody. The way her mother wasn't her mother…

I picked up my jeans and grunted. I was getting too soft.

Downstairs, my mom was making breakfast and Dad was nowhere to be seen. "Where'd the old man go off to?" I grumbled, picking up some toast and grabbing the jar of jelly and a butter knife. "Out to arrest more deviants?" That's what my Dad called them, _deviants. _He also called them _Duncan, dumbasses, _and _fucking little rats that smell of trouble._

My mom rolled her eyes, but I could see the bit of heat in her eyes that told me she wasn't in the mood. "Out doing things your father does, because he's just **so** great." She scowled as she whisked the eggs a little bit harder than usual. "Sometimes, I just feel like shoving my foot up his ass, you know?"

I smirked at her hostility. "That's my mom." I kissed her on the cheek and watched as a blush spread across her face. She looked like she wanted to say something, but held it back. After learning so much yesterday, I decided not to push it and almost made my way out the door, taking a bite of toast.

And then I realized my car wasn't there. Well of course it wasn't- I had left it in the school parking lot and had Birdie come and picked Courtney and I up in her car. Why hadn't that even passed my mind? I looked out the window, but our pick-up wasn't there, Dad must have taken it. Oh lord, no-

Because this meant the worst. This meant the inevitable. This meant-

"Well, you can take Dad's work car." Birdie said, suddenly popping up behind me out of thin air. She smelled of reefer and shampoo, her eyes glazed over, staring at me with a lazy grin that I recognized as the one she always wore after doing dirty things with some guy. She patted me on the back, coughing a bit. "I'm sure he won't mind."

_When You Reach Me_

Now let me explain why I was so apprehensive about taking my Dad's car. It was worse than Birdie's, and I know that seems weird, since I complained about Birdie's car like it was the shittiest car I've ever seen. Well, I didn't lie about that. Birdie does have the biggest shit wagon I've ever seen. But Dad's car was a million times worse.

You could tell by the look on Courtney's face that she was enjoying this much more than she should have been. She slipped into the seat and giggled. "Are you gonna cuff me now?"

Yeah, that's right. My Dad's work car is the worst thing I can imagine.

A cop car.

I felt like a total hypocrite driving the car over to Courtney's, and if anything was worse than the drive there, it was the drive to school. I contemplated how to do this- maybe I could park in the back so no one would see me. Or maybe park a few blocks away, or anything but show up in front of school in something that would ruin my rep forever.

Courtney was in a fit of giggles as we drove to school. "I'm sorry, but this is hilarious!" I kept trying to be mad at her for laughing at me, but I couldn't help myself. I threw her a smile. And she actually smiled back.

To tell you the truth, if there was anything I wanted to do right then, in that moment, it was tell Courtney the truth. If anything, I remember that was when I first considered moments, when I first really thought about how much power just one of them could have. I kept thinking about it and thinking about it and I came to the conclusion that I was going to tell her. I didn't though. I didn't have the heart to tell her that she wasn't really her mothers, that she was left on a doorstep, that someone wasn't able to take care of her.

And then there was all this crap about her dad walking out that made me feel squeamish. It was all too personal for me, and I felt like I was invading on grounds that I wasn't allowed even though I had never asked to be sucked into all this.

I then remembered Courtney's mother:

"_I have no idea why I told you that. You just remind me so much of your mother…_"

An idea popped into my head. Maybe my Dad wasn't the only with secrets.

Did mom know too?

_When You Reach Me_

The day went by, and Courtney told me that she had to hang around after school to decorate for the dance on Sunday. I frowned at her, brushing it off as though it was nothing, though I was obviously upset. "Your loss." I said, but all she did was look at me blankly. But her mouth twitched a little on the side, like she was holding back a smile.

I called my Dad on one of the pay phones outside of school, telling him to have one of his men come and pick up the car. He sighed, said, "God dammit, Duncan," but he said he would. I heard laughter in the background.

"Who's with you, dad?" I said, and for some reason I felt so small. I felt like a little kid again, laying in his arms and feeling safe again. I wanted to hug my dad and tell him 'I love you', and-

"It's nothing." He said gruffly. "Why the hell are you still talking to me?"

I grunted, the feeling gone. "Bye, dad." I slammed the phone against the receiver.

I love you. Fuck that.

_When You Reach Me_

I got home and went straight upstairs, avoiding Birdie, who was passed out on the couch, and mom, who was staring at the old lava lamp intently. Dad still wasn't home.

I trudged into my room, throwing my backpack on the floor and sighing. I sat and stared at the ceiling for an hour before falling asleep shortly. When I woke back up, the sun was beginning to set outside. I guessed it was like six or something. I stretched, getting up and wondering when I had become so damn lazy.

I looked in the front pocket of my backpack for my book, but ending up feeling a single piece of paper.

I ultimately felt my heart speed up. It wasn't like I had forgotten the last piece of paper:

_Don't try to find me._

It still creeped me out. I shrugged it off. Because now, I was just being a big baby. I really needed to stop listening to Dad's crime stories- they weren't right for my brain. And that note had just been a big prank- someone had wanted to get under my skin, is all. Probably someone who didn't like me because I had punched them once or who I had pranked before. No biggie.

As I looked to the old looking piece of paper, I felt a chill go through my mind. Birdie must have been awake, because I could hear her favorite song playing from the room beside me.

_Look out of any window  
Any morning, any evening, any day  
Maybe the sun is shining  
Birds are winging, no rain is falling from a heavy sky  
What do you want me to do  
To do for you to see you through?  
For this is all a dream we dreamed one afternoon long ago_

I open the note and felt my head start to spin.

Because this was all too much, you know? You were kind of scaring me to death right then. I had never been in a situation like this. I didn't know what to think. Everything was crashing down on my brain right now.

The note was worse this time.

_Play by the rules, OK?_

_And start writing that letter when you are certain. I'll be there to tell you when… or maybe I won't._

_Keep yourself together. _

_You're a hard soul._

_You can make it. _

_I probably won't, but it's the price to pay._

_Oh yes, lastly:_

_Don't try to find me._

I felt my hands start to shake. I crumpled the note and threw it against my bedroom door in rage, stuffing it back in my backpack.

I sat there and thought about Courtney. Even with all these worries about who the hell this person was who wouldn't leave me alone, I was still thinking of her. I felt butterflies in my stomach as I picked up the phone beside my bed.

The song still played in the back of my mind.

_What do you want me to do  
To do for you to see you through?  
It's all a dream we dreamed one afternoon long ago_

After three rings, I got a pick up.

"Hello?"

I smiled at her voice, letting out a breath. "Hey," I said, and then I wondered exactly what I had planned on saying to her. Now that I thought about it, I really had nothing to say. I had just wanted to hear her voice, really, but for some reason, it slipped out. "Wanna go to the dance with me on Sunday?"

It was silent on the line as I mentally cursed myself. Who the hell was I? For some reason, I had been acting less like myself and more like a complete nerd. I had to stop pounding on Harold. I must have been catching his disease.

"Duncan?" Courtney interrupted my thoughts, and I realized I had missed what she said.

"Yeah Princess?"

"I said yes." She said quietly, and I heard her shift a bit. "Is that all?"

I coughed a bit. "Yeah."

We said our goodbyes, and I dropped the phone receiver. I felt stupid, but… I had a date with Courtney.

I smiled as I realized that maybe things weren't all that bad.

_And it's just a box of rain, I don't know who put it there  
Believe it if you need it or leave it if you dare  
And it's just a box of rain, or a ribbon for your hair  
Such a long, long time to be gone and a short time to be there_

A/N: OK, well, as you can tell, Courtney and Duncan are getting closer and stuff, but don't worry- drama is to come. So…

What is Duncan's dad hiding?

Does his mom know more than she lets on?

Just what is going on inside Birdie's head?

What's going on with the creepy old man?

And what's up with that note?

That's enough questions! Now I'll try to be fast and come back with more answers and a new chapter!

'Box of Rain' by Grateful Dead is a great song! :D

Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter Nine: The Picture Perfect Family

When You Reach Me

Chapter Nine: The Picture Perfect Family

Ma was never a secretive person. She couldn't keep her mouth shut to save her life. No matter what was going on, my mom was always the life of the party. Her and my dad were like yin and yang, day and night, having nothing in common yet somehow completing each other. Her eyes were always full of excited, her movements filled with life; everything my mother does has purpose and laughter, meaning and enjoyment. She has never been a liar, and she has never hidden how she feels.

Trust me, if my mother was pissed about something, you would know. EVERYONE would know. It was almost impossible not to. The only way to get her out of her obvious funk was for the bearer of her anger to apologize or undo whatever they did. It was as simple as that.

My mom was almost always happy though. I never had to worry about her bad moods, because really, they didn't seem to exist. Whenever she was in a bad mood, she would take to that old lava lamp and sort through her shit before coming back to us again. Some days, my dad just said that she needed to be left alone for a little while, and I guess he was right, because the next day she would be caught at 5 am in the kitchen, smiling and asking what we wanted, looking fresh and clean as a newborn baby. It was like mom just needed some days away from the chaos of real life to recharge her happy batteries. I can't imagine what life would be life if she didn't get this chance. It would probably be a living hell.

Mom was always pure and open and innocent. She's never lied to me about anything I care to remember, and I rarely have to ask her anything, considering the fact that she tells me everything anyways. I'm her 'little listener' as she says. I think she just uses me because Birdie was never the little girl she always wanted, but I let her baby me anyway. Not because I like it! But more over because she enjoys it. Yeah, that's it. But there are some things ma won't tell me up front. Things that she thinks will upset me. Things I have to ask for myself.

Point is, my mom doesn't keep secrets. If I asked, I'm sure she'd tell me anything I wanted to know. But that's just the problem. Asking is hard. Questions make things complicated. And when things get complicated, mom tends to cry. And lord knows I can't deal with my mother crying.

It's like watching someone fall, when my ma cries. Like someone lost something. And I would really do anything to get it back.

_When You Reach Me_

The next morning, I woke up earlier than usual. I was feeling really good about myself, what with asking Courtney out and everything.

Courtney. The more I thought about her the worse I felt. I had only just started talking to her three days ago and I already knew too much for my own good. I wonder if Courtney would still be going to the dance with me if she knew what I knew. If she knew that was dropped off on some doorstep, if she knew that her mother wasn't truly her own…

I shook my thoughts away- there was no use in thinking so darkly and getting so caught up in things that I couldn't change. But that was what really bit at me- the whole point was that I probably could change them if I really wanted to. But it wasn't my business, and it wasn't my place. And it's not like I wanted to see Courtney upset.

I sauntered downstairs to get some breakfast, considering my mom didn't let me leave the house without something in my stomach. I'm really lucky I'm not obese- ma was quite the food pusher. Even when Birdie and I were little, she would always ask if we wanted another helping of chicken or "Are you sure that's enough potatoes? We have plenty!" Luckily, we weren't gluttons so we didn't take advantage of moms food over load. But that didn't mean that I didn't look forward to whatever ma was cooking. Right now, I could smell bacon and eggs and was that waffles? Damn.

I knew mom only cooked like this when she was happy with herself, when she was content and glad that life was the way it was- it was happy cooking, energetic cooking, and the kind that she put effort into.

Was I really going to ruin that mood by asking stupid questions?

I was going to lead myself into the kitchen without saying anything, but that was when I saw my Dad sitting in his chair, reading the newspaper. I still hadn't forgotten how he had spoken to me yesterday, how all I kept getting from everybody were answers that only led to more and more questions. I was really sick and tired of being left out of everything, of all the stupid secrets in this tiny stupid town. "Mom!" I yelled, sidestepping my father and making a beeline into the kitchen.

I saw my mother look up from the bacon and smile at me, her short blonde hair cupping her face. "What is it honey?" And then all my fight was just… just gone. Why did she have to be so good at making me feel calm, relaxed and safe? I guess moms were just programmed that way- whenever I started to get a little crazy, she could stop with a simple smile.

"Mom… you talk to Mrs. Meeks a lot, right?" I tried to keep my voice steady even though a part of me wanted to shake and shiver. I still couldn't believe all of what Courtney's mom had told me- how could that be true? How could Courtney go through life not knowing that she was dropped off on a doorstep? It sounded like something out of a Disney movie but without the part where her adoptive parents are everything she's ever wanted. She could barely stand her mother and now her father wasn't even there for her anymore. How could they hide that from her all her life and just think that it was okay?

My mom nodded, her face going a bit dark at the mention of the Meeks family, and with that look I knew that at least of Courtney's mom's words were true. That sadness my mom had when she thought of them… that was the same way Courtney's mother had looked at me while she spilled out her guts. "Yes, I do talk to her quite often. Why do you ask?"

I focused in on the eggs, scooting beside my mom to shift them with the spatula for a bit. "I… she told me some things the other day." The fork my mom was using stopped for a moment, her stance rigid, before she went back to fixing the breakfast with the fast maneuver she had held before. "She told me that Courtney… the Courtney isn't even their kid."

At that, my mom dropped the fork on the floor, and I turned to look at her face. Her eyes were wide and she was shaking her head, refusing to look at me. "N-Not before breakfast. We talk about this later."

"But ma-"

"Here, Duncan, take a pop tart. Get to school." She forced me a plastic bag straight from the cupboard, giving me a sad look. "I… I promise to tell you everything later." I tried to utter something out, to make my mom stop, but by the time I regained his breath I found myself on the porch, backpack at my feet and with nothing but a pop tart and all new questions and no answers.

_When You Reach Me_

I really didn't know what to think about my mother's reaction to my questions. I mean, never in my life had she acted that way toward me, not even when I asked the dreaded question about where babies came from when I was seven (dad really got a kick out of that one, especially when mom tried to pull out a women's health book on me). All I knew was that mom would sometimes act uncomfortable or angry or awkward about my questions.

But never afraid like she just had. My mother wasn't scared of anything- she was brave, she had heart, spirit that was almost unbreakable. There were times when I was much more afraid of her than I was of dad- it was quite obvious who was the most manipulative of the two, and that was my mother. She could weave words out of nothing, make you feel guilty about something you never did, and she was the only person who could make dad stutter. Mom never stuttered.

"_N-not before breakfast."_

Mom never stuttered. Mom wasn't afraid, ever. So why was it that she sounded so fearful back there? I hopped in my car trying to sort through my thoughts before turning on the engine. Maybe mom wasn't scared for her own being… but Courtney's mother? I knew that their friendship went back a long time ago.

Even when I was little, mom spoke of the Meek's family like they were treasures. I always knew they were different than us. It was like when you look in a magazine and see all the famous people- you obviously know that they lead different lives than you, that they have things you do not. That's how I always thought of the Meek's- famous, untouchable and fucking perfect. Always what my mother wanted and needed us to be.

We failed her, obviously. Birdie was anything but the ideal child; no real job, not going to school, and living at home with bongs hiding under her bed and sleeping with guys in her car whom she didn't know the first name of. Me, I didn't help much, I guess… I was a delinquent with a bad habit of getting into trouble where you would least expect it. I'd been in juvie three times- hey, I'd been clean for a year!- and carved my walls up with my pocket knife and I tended to set things in the house on fire ("By accident or on purpose, who the fuck knows," My dad would grumble). My Dad wasn't all that lovely either- he worked but never really spoke, never smiled much and didn't do much, wasn't a trophy husband that all the women in the town whispered about in jealousy. And of course, my mom wasn't anything perfect. She hadn't finished high school, had pretty much spent years huffing her brains out and protesting, and now was a housewife with a bit of an attitude.

But the Meek's… they were always something my mother aspired for. Just knowing that they were there, that they were close to us, that a perfect, rich, loving family like them was real gave my mom hope. She had raised us to understand that the Meek's were everything this family wanted.

So it all made sense. If I asked that question, if the perfect image of the Meek's was ruined, then my mom couldn't pretend anymore. She couldn't pretend that there was such thing as the perfect family, that families like Courtney's really were all that they seemed. She couldn't tell Birdie to be more like Courtney, because then Birdie could say, "And what, get dropped on a doorstep and left for dead?" She couldn't remind my dad to act more like a Meek's man because he just say, "And what, run away?"

And she couldn't pretend like Courtney's mom was everything she wanted to be. A liar. A liar, who hid something so important from her own child for years. Who could no longer confide in her husband, who resorted to the first boy to walk in, the first one who looked at her with those familiar eyes. Something that was not at all perfect.

But me… there was nothing stopping me. No matter how I looked at it, I knew that somewhere, deep down, I had always known that the Meek's weren't perfect, and mom didn't either. No one did. But no one questioned it- it wasn't their place.

It was Courtney's place, though. She deserved to know. I didn't have the guts to tell her, but I hoped that maybe I could. Maybe, I could help Courtney out again. I could be more than the guy who drives her home from school.

If I could help Courtney, I would surely have no problem taking her to the dance on Sunday. With that thought in my head, I tried my hardest to force on a smile and turn on the car, driving slowly to pick up Courtney and try to keep my heart from exploding from all the mixed emotions. I was going to answer all my questions. I would. I would gain some insight from my mother, find out what my dad was up to, and most of all, I was going to figure out who the fuck sent me those damn notes.

_When You Reach Me_

**A/N: **Gosh, I hate myself for not getting this out faster, and for making it a total filler! Nothing happened in this chapter AT ALL, I just had Duncan rant for a bit… ah, well, I'm sorry guys, hopefully you can forgive me and say yay because this story is now a year old. Yeah, a year. And nine chapters. *holds head in shame*

Well, anyways, thanks for reading and if you can please !review!


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